Red
by citigirl13
Summary: She and Bellamy, they are red: brazen, honest, unable to compromise or change. One-shot about the aftermath of the battle with the Grounders. WARNING: this story may break your heart.


**A/N: **This idea has been bugging me for a while, and I finally wrote it out. And y'know what? I actually like it! I've really enjoyed writing this story. Plus I am going on holiday so this may be the last 100 fic I write for a while.

This story is a bit different than what I usually write; if you don't like it don't blame me, blame my muse. She made me write it!

(Little fun fact: red is my favourite colour, so I am quite happy to _finally_ use it in a story)

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><p><span><strong>WARNING:<strong>** This story may break your heart. It is not a happy story. Read at your own risk.**

**DISCLAIMER:**** I do NOT own **_**The 100 **_**or any of the characters; I do not own the song **_**Red**_**, by Taylor Swift**

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><p><span><strong>Red<strong>

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><p><em>Losing him was blue, like I've never known<br>Missing him was dark grey, all alone  
>Forgetting him was like trying to know somebody you never met<br>But loving him was red_

_- Red, _Taylor Swift

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><p>It's when she's been in the white room for about a day (in reality only a few hours, but you know what they say about relativity) that she decides that she hates the colour white. She once read that white isn't actually a colour – it is in fact the <em>absence <em>of colour, something that she decides is completely right. So she spends all her time daydreaming about other colours, so many that she can barely think of them all: a duck egg blue sky, right before evening sets in; the bright bold green of grass on a summer's day; the dark brown of mud. There are other colours too: gold, indigo, orange, bronze. The colour of Finn's hair. The darkness of Bellamy's eyes. The pink of her mother's cheeks.

Most of all she thinks of the colour red. Of stop-signs and post boxes in old films. Of strawberries. Of the red sky at night that reminded her of blood the night before she and Finn were taken – a warning, she now thinks. A foreshadowing.

Red is a colour like no other, a definite colour. It is brazen. It is honest. It isn't something that can be compromised or changed. It's just there, plain and simple, take it or leave it.

If she were a colour, she would be red.

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><p>He tries not to think about her, and thankfully with the whole Camp Jaha we-are-in-charge-you-are-children attitude, he is kept preoccupied.<p>

At least that's what he tells himself.

The truth is, she creeps into his mind more and more often. When he is fighting with Kane (which is basically all the time) he imagines what she would say, how she would convince him. He imagines her taking his side, because that's what he needs to think (_someone_ needs to be on his side, even in his head). He sees her whenever he looks at Abby, lips pursed, the same look Clarke had when she used to think about her mother. He thinks of her when he sees Finn staring out into the distance, and he knows that he must have the same look whenever he is gazing out at Mount Weather.

He wants to go. He wants to find her – them. Sometimes he wonders what his motivation is. Does he want to get them back to prove he isn't a failure? Does he want to be in charge again? Is it to do with strength in numbers? Is it because he hopes Octavia will be with them? He finally chalks it up to the fact that they are a family, all of them, and he won't let anyone hurt his family.

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><p>She doesn't trust them.<p>

She wonders whether it is to do with the fact that it's too good to be true: that there are people so civilised here and that they are willing to help them. She wonders whether it is because she isn't in charge. If Earth has jaded her, made her paranoid.

Dante explains that his people can't go outside, that exposure will kill them. She nods and listens to this, but all she is thinking is, _we didn't come to Earth just to hide under the ground. _

She sees his gift to her as a bribe, and a clever one at that. She would love to spend all day colouring with the pencils, drawing things. Back on the Ark, she would draw things that were on Earth: animals, plants, even clouds.

She's almost afraid to pick them up. What, she thinks, would she draw now?

She likes the colours though. She runs her fingers down the line, looking at them all.

Monty is yellow, like the inside of a daisy. Jasper is bright green, like the leaves hanging off the trees. Wells (oh God, _Wells_) would be grey, practical. Her dad would be oatmeal brown, warm and comforting and safe. Raven would be silver, from the shine of metal. Octavia, bright purple, the colour of children's grape juice. Her mom would be a shade of moonlight. Finn, the bright gold of a harvest moon. Bellamy –

She runs her fingers down the line of pencils, landing right at the last one.

Red. Bellamy would be red, like her: bold, challenging, definite. And him, unlike her, would be all the best parts of red: unafraid, fearless. Unapologetic. Daring.

She closes her eyes and lets herself feel her loss.

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><p>"Who took Clarke?"<p>

Bellamy raises his head, and an eyebrow, at Abby. "If I knew that, don't you think I would have said so?"

"But you must suspect."

Bellamy straightens up from his bent position. "The Grounders could have taken them. We were fighting them, and it would make sense. I would have thought that the rockets would have sorted them out and killed all the Grounders there, but perhaps they had reinforcements."

Abby is studying him, her eyes moving up and down. "You don't sound so confident," she finally states.

What is it with Griffin women and being able to read his mind? He sighs. "I don't, do I?" He turns his head, looking in the direction of Mount Weather. "There were a huge number of Grounders, so big that we brought the Reapers-" He looks back at Abby. "Reapers are-"

"I know," Abby interrupts. "Finn explained."

Bellamy nods, continuing. "The Grounders and Reapers had a fight between themselves. We used it as time to gather people in the drop ship. If it were me, and I had part of my army in reserve, I would have brought them in then. The Grounders stopped the Reapers, and came towards us. It seemed like a certain victory. Why would they keep part of their army back?

"The rockets killed all the people – Grounders and us. No one would have made it, and most likely would have turned and run. Perhaps a few got out, but..."

"But not many," finishes Abby. She pauses. "Even a few – ten – could have gotten the kids-"

"No. They would have needed a large number."

"But – they're just _kids-_"

"They _were _kids, back when you sent them to Earth." He watches Abby withdraw into herself, and feels a small thrill of putting her in her place. So many of the adults here think they know what they're doing. Only a few of them have begun to realise how wrong they are. "At the time of the battle, they weren't children anymore – they were warriors. They could have taken on a few Grounders, especially since we still had some gunfire left."

"You don't believe the Grounders have taken them," she says. Bellamy gives a curt nod of the head. "Then who did?"

For reasons unknown to even himself, Bellamy looks towards Mount Weather again. "I don't know," he says. He meets Abby's gaze. "But I will find them." The phrase _dead or alive_ echoes in his head and he feels a shiver of dread.

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><p>She finds out what they're doing and she is scared. No, she is terrified and incredibly vulnerable. She doesn't want to tell any of them what is going on because a) she thinks they might not believe her and b) they might be so scared that their cover will be blown. The only one Clarke does trust, will trust, is Anya, and she risks her own life just to see her.<p>

She is still in her holding cell, nails severely cut so she can't scratch at her enemies. Unlike the rest of the 100, she isn't allowed to go free. "So," she says, raising her head to look at Clarke. "You've found out. Well done. They wouldn't have made easy."

"I need to get out," Clarke says. "And I need your help."

Anya's eyes flicker. "My help? I'm honoured."

"I'll help you get out," promises Clarke. "And I would like you to show me the way back towards the camp, or at least the area. You can leave after that; I won't hold you hostage."

"You _couldn't_ hold me hostage, weak girl," snaps Anya. She stares at Clarke, clenching and unclenching her hands. "Fine. Get me out and I'll help."

A few nights later they make an escape. Clarke gets Monty and Jasper to initiate a distraction, and though they don't understand why, they do it, bless them. They have a fight, causing so much ruckus that they actually need guards to break it up. The tables are overturned and Clarke manages to sneak a number of ID cards. She manages to break Anya out using an ID card and then they run. They use the same way that Clarke tried to escape the first time, and this time they reach the door with the lever without anyone discovering them.

Anya doesn't pull it down. She stands by the door, waiting for Clarke. "You'll kill them," she tells her. "Are you willing to do that?"

Clarke thinks about all the people she's seen: the men, women and children who have no clue what is going on. Then she thinks of Monty's laugh, Jasper's smile, their innocent belief in the good of strangers. "If it saves us," she says simply.

She pulls the lever.

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><p>In the dead of night Bellamy isn't asleep (he hasn't slept, not since he lost most of his family) when Abby comes to his quarters (his cell). "What do you want?" he asks the mother, who has the same glint in her eye that Clarke does when she has an idea.<p>

"For you to find my daughter." In a seamless move she throws a backpack to him. Bellamy catches it in one hand. "There's some food, water and a few medical supplies. I'll get you a gun."

Bellamy stands. "Kane won't like it."

"I like Kane, but in this respect he can go to hell." Bellamy doesn't reply but he feels his mouth twitch.

She leads Bellamy through the camp, skilfully avoiding the guards (at least Camp Jaha has done that right). She stops when they reach the forest. "Go," she informs him quietly. "And don't come back without my daughter."

Bellamy is about to take off when he glances back at Abby. "Why me?" he asks. "Why not Finn?"

"Because it doesn't take a genius to figure out that Finn's heart is torn in two. I need someone who's solely focussed on finding my daughter."

"My sister's out there too."

"Perhaps she's with them. The only way you'll find out is to go and get Clarke back."

Bellamy nods at the sense of this. "Finn would be more determined," he says, because he still can't quite understand why Abby isn't asking him.

"But I can't get the two of you out," she says. "And I think you're wrong. I think you're the one who will be more committed to finding Clarke. After all, you're in love with her."

His body goes absolutely still.

"I can tell you're in love with her. Finn doesn't know it yet, but he will." Abby lets out a laugh. "I'm not sure you even know it yet, or if Clarke does. But it's there, and that's why you'll find her." She waits, allowing her words to sink it. "Go," she repeats, an order.

He takes off without another word.

He heads towards Mount Weather. He can't explain why he goes there, why he thinks they'll be there. Another part of him is screaming for him to head for the ocean, to see if they are there with Octavia, his beautiful loveable little sister. He tells himself he'll just have a quick look, a quick scout, before turning back.

He is halfway up Mount Weather, momentarily resting to have a drink of water. In the forest, up ahead, there is a scream. Birds take off from the trees, flying away from the noise.

He runs.

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><p>Everything is in a haze of red. Clarke stumbles, putting her feet in front of her. She knows that she is heading in the right direction because she is going down.<p>

She also knows that she isn't going to make it.

All she can see is red. When she looks up it covers the sky, spots all round. She looks on the ground, trying to focus on where she is going, but every now and then she sees puddles of red on the floor too.

Her vision is blurred, and she stumbles hard. She thinks that she can't, that she has to move, when she hears a voice. A voice that she clearly recognises.

She calls for Bellamy.

She sees him burst from the trees, like a stallion hell-bent for the sunset. Despite her vision he is perfectly clear: the darkness of his hair, the muddy freckles over his face, his broad shoulders. The relief almost shakes her to her core, if she had the energy. _He's alive_, she thinks, and then adds, _only Bellamy could survive when he's sure to die._

She allows herself a smile before she collapses.

He is on her in a moment. "Clarke," he gasps. He is bending over her, those nut brown eyes scanning over her body, her face. "What's – what happened?"

"Anya." Her voice is a whisper. Her lips, her throat, are all suddenly dry. "She – I helped her get out, and we were going to come down to you but-" She coughs. "She betrayed me. She said she couldn't let me go, she had to protect her people."

Bellamy tries to force a drink in her mouth but Clarke moves her head away. "Save it for yourself."

"Clarke, you need to be hydrated. That's what you always told me, remember?" Clarke sees his face, his beautiful face, trying to smile, but his eyes aren't looking at her. They are looking at the wound on her stomach, the slash down her arm; the blood flowing from those cuts.

She makes sure she is gripping his hand. "You need to rescue to the others. They're – we're in Mount Weather. The entrance – right at the top, next to the big oak tree – you'll see it. They've befriended us but – they're trying – they're using us as an experiment, to test and get stuff from our bodies so their own can cope with going outside – they can't go outside. I might have killed them but-"

"Clarke, you're not making any sense." Bellamy bends down, tries to lift her. "We need to get you to your mother."

This time Clarke reaches up, puts a hand on his head, through his hair. He looks at her and his face is so – oh God it is so imperfectly beautiful she wants to cry. "We won't get there in time Bellamy," she says gently, as if he's the one who is dying.

He shakes his head, but she knows the words are sinking in because there are tears forming in his eyes. "You can't do this to me," he says fiercely. He sounds almost angry and that's when Clarke knows that he'll be okay. He'll fight on. "It's been hell without you Clarke. I can't do this without you."

She strokes his cheek, his perfectly smooth cheek, and thinks _I should have done this more_. "You can do this," she tells him. "You can get make peace. You don't think you can but you will. You'll keep them all safe." She looks away then because there is more red above her, and she feels a spasm of fear. "There's blood Bellamy," she cries. "Why is there blood everywhere?"

The fear in her voice makes Bellamy follow her gaze and he says quickly, "No Clarke, it's not blood – it's the leaves." He looks back at the trees. "It's autumn. The leaves are changing."

Clarke looks up and as soon as Bellamy has said it she sees he is right. The trees have changed colour, and now she can see the leaves: bright yellow, brilliant orange, burning red. Her artist's eye is in awe of the colours, in the beauty. She's glad she's seen this. She's glad she knew this existed. She gives another smile as her vision begins to fade. "We didn't come to Earth just to hide under the ground."

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><p>Years later they tell stories about him. The Red Warrior he is known as, for a number of reasons: for the red leaf he always has pinned on his armour (the red leaf he always replaces, every year, that gets ripped and torn but doesn't move) over his heart; for the trail of blood he leaves in his wake; for the fire that they say burns in him. Yet he has a reputation for being peaceful too. He makes treaties with Grounder clans, agreeing for peace so long as they don't cross his camp.<p>

"Grandma," the little girl whines. "Tell me the rest."

The woman sighs, leaning against the tree to stop the ache from her hip. "About the wars he fought?"

"_No_," says the child. She frowns at her grandmother, her hair tied back in a complicated twist of knots and bows. "About how he became the Red Warrior."

She sighs, because it is not a story she likes telling. But the hikes are boring for a child, and they have a long way to go yet. "He was a great leader, but not a great warrior, until he found his princess dead in the forest. He brought her back to his camp and then they buried her. When he buried her, he made her a promise that he would keep their people safe, whatever it cost him."

Her granddaughter sighs, because even at five she is a romantic. "That's why he killed the Mountain Men, isn't it Grandma?"

She nods solemnly. "That's why he killed them. That's why he has made peace with the clans, because that's what she wanted."

The little girl scrunches up her face. "But if he's killed all the bad people and made peace with all of our people, then what's he going to do now?"

Anya manages a smile when she thinks of the man she has been running from for most of her life; the man who would kill her if he found her, who is still searching for her to this day. "He hasn't killed all the bad people yet," she tells her granddaughter, the sole survivor of her slaughtered family. "When he has he is going to go and be with his princess."

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><p><strong>AN:** Two things:

The song _Red_ by Taylor Swift really suits Bellamy and Clarke's relationship, in my opinion. Listen to the lyrics! And;

Sorry. You don't hate me, do you?

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><p><strong>HOURS TO MAKE. SECONDS TO COMMENT. <strong>

**PLEASE REVIEW!**


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